


Salt

by janescott



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-12
Updated: 2010-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris is thirsty</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt

**Author's Note:**

> PWP. Beta'd by equus07  
> Disclaimer: Nothing herein belongs to me.

Kris wakes up, his mouth dry. The only thoughts in his head: hot, and water. He stumbles out of his bunk, slick all over with sweat, and nearly trips over his feet, heading to the tiny kitchenette at the back of the bus.

Water is foremost; his mouth feels like cotton. He has no idea where they are, and he'd be hard pushed right now to tell anyone where they're going. "Somewhere," he thinks, weaving a little as the bus goes around a gentle corner. As he passes the tiny bathroom, the door swings open a little and he notices that someone's left the light on.

He reaches in to switch it off, and his eyes widen in shock at the sight before him. Before his brain can process what he's doing, he steps in to the bathroom, shuts the door, and locks it.

Kris stares at Adam, sitting on the closed toilet lid; shirtless; his torso sheened with sweat. He's still wearing his trousers from the final song; it looks to Kris like he might have fallen asleep in them. They're rumpled and the weak light in the bathroom is glinting off the shiny panels cut in to them.

Kris isn't entirely sure, but he thinks his whole body has gone red under the t-shirt and boxers he'd gone to bed in. Because Adam is sitting with his jeans unzipped, stroking an impressive hard-on.

Kris tries to swallow, but his throat is so dry, somehow it comes out as a little whine. Adam is watching him; his blue eyes hooded, his rhythm remaining steady. He doesn't say anything and Kris seems to have forgotten how to speak. He's aware that his mouth has opened slightly, that he's getting hard himself, and that he's somehow become glued to the bathroom door.

He's distantly aware that his brain is trying to tell him something, but he doesn't seem to be listening. His eyes are stuck on Adam's hand, unconsciously rising and falling in the same rhythm. When Adam's hand speeds up; Kris' eyes fix on one spot and he holds his breath as he waits for – Adam arches his hips as he comes, silently; his lips pressed together, his eyes still on Kris, who lets out a huff of breath that he's not aware of.

Adam lifts a hand and crooks a finger, telling Kris to come over; still not saying anything. Kris' brain helpfully starts supplying reasons why this is a bad idea. But when Kris moves, it isn't out the door. Instead, he turns the cold tap on in the sink; splashing his face with cold water. He cups a little in his hand, and drinks; it tastes faintly metallic, but at least his tongue isn't stuck to the roof of his mouth anymore.

He avoids looking in the mirror. Instead, he turns around, moving towards Adam, his eyes riveted on the sweat, and the come, shining slightly on Adam's flat stomach.

Adam reaches out and strokes Kris' arm, his fingers laying a trail that seems to ignite on Kris' skin. He looks down, and his mildly surprised not to see tiny sparks there. He feels like he's having an out-of-body experience, or maybe he's dreaming. But the hard floor under him when he kneels down between Adam's legs tell him that this isn't a dream.

Kris flicks his tongue out; tasting Adam's skin; carefully avoiding the trails of come. His tongue tastes sweat; sharp, and salty, and the skin feels smooth under his tongue. Adam tangles a hand in his hair, silently encouraging.

Hesitantly Kris taste a drop of the come; running it over the back of his teeth. It's bitter, and salty, but it doesn't taste bad to him. He opens his mouth a little wider, and drags his tongue across the skin of Adam's stomach, cleaning as he goes. Adam's cock – half-hard again – is just below his mouth, but he ignores it for now. Adam doesn't make a noise, but his chest starts rising and falling a little bit faster.

Kris trails his tongue upwards, the combined salt taste of Adam's sweat and come still sharp on the tip. He pauses at Adam's collarbone; nipping the thin skin over the bone between his teeth. Adam arches his neck, and Kris tracks tiny, close-mouthed kisses up the invisible line; nipping again when he reaches Adam's jaw. Adam huffs out a breath, his hand still tangled in Kris' hair. Kris rests his mouth against Adam's jaw for a moment before he feels Adam's hand under his chin, lifting his face, bringing them eye to eye.

Adam stares at Kris for a moment, his expression unreadable before he leans forward slightly, and Kris tastes Adam's mouth for the first time.

"More," he whispers in to it.


End file.
